


The Black Brothers

by DarrkeThoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-02-19 05:18:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarrkeThoughts/pseuds/DarrkeThoughts
Summary: AU in which Bran does not fall...





	1. Chapter 1

 

He was climbing and heard voices. He worked his way closer, over an open window in the first keep. They were talking about father!

Bran locked his legs around a gargoyle above the window and let himself drop until he was hanging upside down. He managed to get a look through the window. Everything was upside down. It looked like a man and a woman were wrestling with each other, both naked - except for their golden hair. He thought the man might be hurting the woman because of the sounds she was making.

And then she opened her eyes and saw him. She screamed, and Bran lost his grip for a moment.

Then the man was at the window holding out a hand. Bran grabbed it and the man pulled him up to the windowsill. That was when Bran realized the man was Ser Jaime, the Kingslayer. And the naked woman with him was Queen Cersei.

“He saw us!” She shrieked.

And thenJaime looked at Bran. For just a moment, Bran thought he saw something dangerous in the knight's eyes, and then they went dead. He ducked right as the man reached toward him, as if to push him out of the window.

But Bran was quicker and fell into the room with the Queen, and the knight, off balance, tumbled over the window sill and out into the air.

“No!” the Queen shrieked again, running to lean out the empty window. “You killed him!”

The thought of pushing the Queen out the window crossed Bran's mind, but then she turned on him and grabbed him by the hair. “You,” she fumed. “You did this. You killed my brother. I'll have you whipped and flayed before they take your head, you little brat!”

She shook him so violently that Bran could feel the hair tearing out of his scalp, but not all of it. She still had a firm hold on him and was dragging him toward the door.

“What about your clothes?” Bran asked, desperately hoping for a chance to get away.

That stopped her in her tracks. She looked at herself and went pale, then shoved him toward the wall, tearing some more hair out with the motion.

“Stay there,” she hissed. “Don't even think about moving.” And then she began to gather her clothes and dress.

Bran watched as she picked up one garment after another. Some she tossed aside, and others she clutched in front of her breasts. Every few seconds she tossed a glare his way, presumably making sure he was not moving as instructed.

He held very still and waited until she was struggling with her dress. Her head was buried in the skirts, muffling her curses. One arm was in its sleeve, but she seemed to be having trouble finding the other one.

That was when Bran made his move. He bolted for the window, the same one he came in. He jumped to the sill, and from there he quickly climbed to the gargoyle that he had been hanging from when he first saw them. Once on top of the gargoyle, he felt safe.

He could hear her shouting at him, and even see her head as she looked out the window for him. But she didn't see him. She was looking down, not up. Even if she thought to look up, she probably would not be able to see him on top of the gargoyle, but if she did see him, could she climb as good as he could? Bran doubted it, at least not in a dress like the one she was trying to put on when he escaped.

Bran sat still on top of the gargoyle, hugging the wall of the keep and trying to make himself as small as possible. He waited until he heard her cursing get soft and muffled, like she had moved away from the window. Then he started climbing.

He went back the way he came, across the top of the keep and back down the sentinel tree into the godswood were his wolf waited for him, whining.

“Bran!”

Bran looked up at the voice. It was his bastard brother, Jon Snow, and his wolf, Ghost.

“Bran, there you are! Something has happened and you need to go find your mother right away.”

“Was it the Kingslayer?” Bran asked.

“How did you know?” asked Jon.

“I saw him fall.” Bran replied, a little uncertainly. “They will blame me for him dying.”

“Why you?” Jon asked, obviously confused. “You were here in the godswood. How could you have seen anything? Besides, he's not dead. Maester Luwin is taking care of him now. He says he might even live.”

“I was climbing.” Bran mumbled, looking at his feet.

“You were... I don't understand.”

“I was climbing. I saw Ser Jaime with his sister. He was trying to grab me when he fell out the window.”

Jon was staring at him with a confused look on his face. “The Kingslayer was naked as his name day when they found him. What would he be doing with his sister, naked?”

“Wrestling?” offered Bran.

Jon looked at him again, thinking. “Was the queen naked too?” he finally asked.

“Yes. She had to get dressed, and that's how I got away.”

“Got away?”

“They saw me. I almost fell, but Ser Jaime caught me, but then the queen was upset and I think he was going to push me, but I ducked, and then he fell. She says it's my fault he fell and he's dead, and they are going to flog me and flay me and chop my head off. I can't go back to the keep now.”

Jon just looked at him for a moment, hand on his shoulder. “No, no I don't think you can go back now. It would be your word against the Queen as to what happened. And I don't think she would want anyone to hear that she was, um, wrestling, with her brother. You and your wolf need to hide somewhere until I can figure out what to do.”

“Where can I hide?” Bran asked, trying not to imagine what it felt like to be flayed. Starks in Old Nan's stories got flayed by the Boltons, but that was ages and ages ago. And the Queen was not even a Bolton as far as he could remember.

“The crypts!” Jon shouted. “No one but Starks would think to look there, and no one in our family would hand you over to the Queen. I can bring you food... and let you know what happens... what the Queen says happened.”

Bran nodded and followed Jon to the crypts, hand on his wolf. It was dark and scary in the crypts. They walked past the Kings of Winter and Bran could feel their ghosts judging him. Did they blame him for the knight's fall too? Was it really his fault?

Jon took him all the way to the end of the row, near his Aunt Lyanna's tomb and beyond to another set of steps that lead to an even lower level, an older level.

“Do we have to go down there?” Bran asked.

“I think it's best. No one ever goes past this place. They won't think a little boy your age would hide down there with the ghosts.”

“I'm not that little!” Bran protested, but then added, “but I don't want to hide with the ghosts...”

“There are no ghosts – except Ghost. I could let him stay with you too, if you like.” Jon offered.

“No. I have my own wolf.” Bran patted the head of the wolf he had yet to name. Perhaps he could think of a name while he was waiting.

“You won't forget to come back?”

“I'd never forget you, Bran.” Jon promised. “I'll come back and bring you some food and blankets and news, and we'll make a plan to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

 

 


	2. Jon

 

The hunting party was coming through the gates of Winterfell as Jon returned from the godswood. The whole courtyard was a mass of confusion with people running and shouting. The King was bellowing about the Kingslayer ruining his hunt, and father was speaking earnestly to Lady Catelyn.

Jon tried to keep to the edge of the crowd and hoped no one noticed him. The Kingslayer's body was gone, as was Maester Luwin. Jon wondered if they took him to the maester's study or to his own rooms.

“Jon,” his father called. “Go to my solar. Wait there with the other children.”

“We haven't seen Bran yet.” Lady Catelyn worried.

“He'll show up.” Father reassured her.

Just then, Jon caught a glimpse of the queen ducking out of the first keep and toward the guest wing.

“Father,” Jon started, but his father was half-way across the courtyard making his way toward the king.

“Do as your father asked.” Lady Catelyn demanded. Jon grabbed her arm and pointed toward the queen right as she ducked inside. Lady Catelyn narrowed her eyes, but he wasn't sure if she had seen the queen, or if she was just angry with him for laying hands on her.

“Go. Now,” was all she said.

When Jon got to his father's solar he found not only his brothers and sisters, but also the royal children. Myrcella and Sansa were trying to comfort Tommen while Joffery was bragging to Theon and Robb.

“Did you find Bran?” Arya demanded.

“No,” he lied, picking up Rickon and swinging him around. “Is there any news about the kingslayer yet?”

“Maester Luwin says he will probably live, but he may never walk again.”

“What about the queen?” Jon asked.

“The queen?” Sansa asked. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“The kingslayer,” Jon started then noticed the way Joffery was looking at him. “Ser Jaime was her brother.”

“Is her brother,” broke in Joffery. “My mother is tender-hearted like most women, she will be devastated to hear about his fall.”

“She wasn't there?” Jon asked.

The other children looked at each other, shaking their heads. “No one has seen her yet,” Myrcella said. “I think she was going to take a nap this afternoon.”

“We came in with the hunting party. I didn't see her.” Robb started, then turned to Theon, “Did you?”

Theon shook his head.

Just then Lord and Lady Stark came in, followed by King Robert. “Is everyone here?” asked father.

“All but Bran,” answered Arya.

No one had seen Bran. No one had any guess as to how the Kingslayer had ended up naked in the First Keep in the first place. They speculated there might be a murderer in Winterfell.

The Queen and the Imp showed up not long into their conversation. The Queen looked rumpled and briefly claimed she had been sleeping before demanding that “something be done” about the murderer lose in Winterfell.

Tyrion watched everyone closely and asked after Bran.

Lady Catelyn worried that Bran might be injured or captured.

The Queen suggested that perhaps Bran had seen something, or that Jaime had been trying to save Bran when he fell.

Tyrion looked at her strangely when she suggested it, but said nothing.

It seemed like hours before they had talked out the whole series of events, but no one knew anything more at the end than at the beginning.

The children were all put under close guard and sent to their rooms. Jon managed to talk his guard into going by the kitchens before his room. He got bread and cheese to take to his room. He left his guard outside, promising that Ghost would not let any strangers into the room.

Then he wrapped the food into a blanket and climbed out the window.

“Stay, Ghost.” he whispered to his direwolf.

Back in the crypts, Jon handed over the meal and the blankets to Bran.

“Are they mad at me?” Bran asked.

“No. They think that someone may have kidnapped you, or even killed you. The Queen suggested that Jaime tried to stop them, whoever they were and that's when he was stripped and thrown from the tower.”

“That's not what happened!” Bran retorted.

“No, but it's good for you that she said that. She said it in front of your mother and father and even the King. She can't very well change her story and say you pushed the Kingslayer out of the window now.”

 

 


	3. Bran

 

“Can you stay here?” Bran asked Jon.

“No, I left Ghost in my room, but there is a guard and he might check on me. I should get back there just in case. It looks like you are safe though. You should be able to come back tomorrow.”

Jon looked thoughtful.

“I suppose you should come up with a story about where you have been. Something that doesn't conflict with what the Queen said.”

“But that was a lie!” Bran protested. Why would Jon ask him to tell a lie? “I saw the queen there with the Kingslayer and he tried to push me out the window.”

“Whatever you do, you don't want to tell that story anywhere that the queen can hear it.”

“Why not? What could the truth hurt?” Bran asked.

“You.” Jon replied. “The queen is lying. There is something that she doesn't want anyone else to know. If you come back and start telling people she was with her brother in that tower she might get angry and ...” Jon paused, looked at Bran, and then pulled him into a hug. “I just don't want anything to happen to you, Bran. The queen is lying and she must have a reason. Who knows what else she might try to do to keep her secret.”

Bran was not so sure there was a secret that anyone would hurt him for. He could even tell them that the queen had not pushed the Kingslayer out the window. The part about him being naked made Bran uncomfortable though. There was no harm in spending time with your brother or sister, but why were they naked?

Bran snuggled close to his direwolf and pulled the blanket that Jon brought him over both of them. He kept puzzling about what the Queen was trying to hide. Why would she try to make people believe he had been kidnapped. Why would she say her brother was probably trying to protect Bran. Or pretend she had not been there.

The thoughts were swirling in Bran's mind as he fell asleep beside his wolf.

He dreamed he was the Kingslayer. He was tall and golden in his armor. A member of the kingsguard. He was guarding the old dragon king, the Mad King, Aerys.

Some guards in gold cloaks brought in two prisoners. One looked like his father, and the other like his brother Jon. The king wanted them killed for treason. They demanded trial by combat and the king said fire was his champion.

Bran stood there watching and saying nothing. He was trying to scream at them to stop, but the body did not belong to him. He wanted to turn away, to run, but he was trapped watching as his father burned, roasting in his armor. The whole time Jon was trying to reach him, but they put a cord around his neck and placed the sword just out of his reach. He strangled himself trying to get to the sword, but still Bran could not move and could not look away.

He finally woke up. It was dark and tears were streaming down his face. It was too late. He had watched them die. He had watched them die and done nothing. He was a knight, and they were innocent. The kingsguard were supposed to be the best knights of all, but he could not protect anyone from the king.

Bran lay back against his wolf again. Maybe the dream was a warning. Was this what Jon had been trying to tell him about the Queen, that if she decided to kill him, no one could stop her? No one would even try to stop her?

His father would. Jon would.

Would that make them traitors? There was a new king now, and he was father's friend.

Bran drifted off to sleep again. This time he dreamed he was Jon. He was dressed like he was going on a long trip somewhere. He went into a room where his mother sat by a bed. She looked tired and her clothes were rumpled and her hair uncombed. She must have been sitting there for a long time.

On the bed was the Kingslayer. He was asleep and broken. His mother was holding his hand. The hand got thinner as he looked at it, until it turned to bone. He looked at his mother again. She was looking directly back at him, right through Jon and into Bran's eyes.

“It should have been you,” she said. And then Bran saw that she had grown another eye. Her third eye was above her nose, right between her eyebrows.

He woke again to the whining of his direwolf. The dream of his mother had been even worse than the dream about his father.

Everyone knew that you would have nightmares if you slept among the dead. Bran resolved to stay awake until morning. The dreams felt so real. The first seemed to be a message, a warning. But what about the one with his mother? Did she really wish he had fallen instead of Ser Jaime? Why would she have three eyes? What could it mean?

In spite of his best efforts, Bran could not keep his eyes open. He fell asleep once more and this time he was flying. He was flying North. He could see the world below him laid out like one of Maester Luwin's maps. He was flying straight up the King's Road. And there was Long Lake. And there was the Wall.

It was huge. Bran had known it was big, but seeing it was different from hearing about it. Perhaps it only looked bigger because Bran had somehow become a bird.

“Corn,” he heard himself squawk.

He turned to the right as they came close to the wall and flew all the way to Eastwatch, and then back the length of the wall all the way to the western edge and the Bay of Ice. Then back again to Castle Black and the King's Road.

The wall was old and there were a dozen towers empty and falling apart along the wall. Bran flew for days, back and forth along the wall, on the south side and back again on the north. He saw every crack and crevice. He saw the brothers of the night's watch spreading gravel along the top of the wall, and a party of wilding raiders climbing the wall where there were no brothers to watch.

When he thought his arms could not hold him aloft any longer, he turned north again and flew into a snowstorm. At the heart of the storm he saw dead men marching like an army, except there were also dead women and dead children. Even dead animals marched. They were all marching south.

And then he saw the ice creature sitting on a dead horse with his spear raised.

“No,” a voice echoed in his head.

And then he was awake, in the Crypts of Winterfell again. But this time he was not afraid. The Queen did not matter. The dead of Winterfell would stay in their crypts. All that mattered was Winter was coming.

  
 


End file.
